A waiting game

Is it too wrong to want answers now? I mean I am so tired of waiting until March or April to hear results. Yet I know that is the earliest I will hear.

Today I have been on a roller coaster. And I do so wholeheartedly "get" the ups and downs of waiting and having high stress. I know what extreme stress does to me. And still even those moments seem like a lightweight comepared to what is going on right now.

I don't want to say I am tired. It more of annoyance than anything. The way of little symptoms are going. I just want them to go away so I can feel human again.

Certainly that even sounds ridiculous right now. Human. Ha. Heck just to feel real is good. Because with all that is crazy in my life I don't even know what is manageable or just sheer nuts.

With nosebleeds, bruising, skin on fire, migraines, nausea and a lot of other blah stuff I can't seem to understand what was "normal" like before.

The wearing of black a lot seems to hide the "mistakes" of life pretty good. Same goes for chewing gum and drinking cranberry tea. Yet just parts of me want results -- NOW!

And as much as I know I can't rush life nor miracles I just have to learn a new form of patience.

And I am tired.

Second procedure goes through at end of January. I am almost too excited. But I must learn to be slow like the oxen. It's a new piece of my puzzle I have to apply.

Yet all that screams in my mind is NOW NOW NOW. And I know I can't get answers that quickly.

So go at a slower pace. Learn to enjoy life in grains of sand steps. Just the agitation I get. Then I best just close my eyes and shut down.

Leave the worries at the door of my mind and hope for the best in the morning.

Indeed. So sure I want a rushed, complete answer but I must adapt and become patient. A trait I am always working on.

So good night as I close my mind to all the thoughts in my brain. Shutting out and pulling blinds down. Finding my peace. Overturning the calm and settling down with the expectation of a glorious surprise on the morrow.

I smile.

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